


In Another World:   A Collection of 25 Drabbles for Snupin100's 250th Challenge

by Bonfoi



Series: Snupin100 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Community: snupin100, Drabbles, Gen, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Marauders' Era, Post First Voldemort War, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the moonlight there are shadows and glimpses.</p><hr/><p><b>Challenge:</b>    ~ Challenge #250:  Outsider POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Another World:   A Collection of 25 Drabbles for Snupin100's 250th Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Reality arc as originally posted at Snupin100:
> 
> 1 ~ [Sorted](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/140315.html) | 2 ~ [Under Observation](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/140592.html) | 3 ~ [Shadows at the Willow](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/141274.html) | 4 ~ [What Rita Missed](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/141580.html) | 5 ~ [The Auror's Call](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/141922.html)  
> ---|---|---|---|---  
> 6 ~ [Angel’s Eyes](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/142216.html) | 7 ~ [Reflections](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/142431.html) | 8 ~ [Phoenix Memories](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/142635.html) | 9 ~ [In the Headmaster’s Office](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/142873.html) | 10 ~ [Bedstead](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/143117.html)  
> 11 ~ [The Robe](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/143688.html) | 12 ~ [Whither Goes the Wand](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/143880.html) | 13 ~ [Flying Time](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/144253.html) | 14 ~ [Traitorous Musings](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/144635.html) | 15 ~ [Release and Recognition](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/144753.html)  
> 16 ~ [Set Free](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/145062.html) | 17 ~ [Written Suspicion](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/145328.html) | 18 ~ [Hallowed Hogwarts](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/145532.html) | 19 ~ [Charmed, I’m Sure](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/146307.html) | 20 ~ [Reflection Upon Reflection](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/146602.html)  
> 21 ~ [Slytherinesque](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/146794.html) | 22 ~ [Janus Undone](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/147000.html) | 23 ~ [Stood Up](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/147395.html) | 24 ~ [A Tome Amongst Books](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/148055.html) | 25 ~ [The Moon's Children](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snupin100/148273.html)  
  
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**_Disclaimer:_** The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life. 

This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

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**Sorted**

**“Lupin, Remus, come forward!”**

_A secret so wild and fierce, with teeth and claws that rend and pierce…you need safety to breathe, don’t you? Or you’ll find it on your own, won’t you?”_

_“Please, I don’t want to…”_

_You’ll do fine, with your heart and soul. Just be kind, always thinking on the whole._

“Gryffindor!”

Remus blinked as the Sorting Hat was tugged off. He didn’t look at the Gryffindor Table; his eyes searched for the dark-eyed boy from the train. He hoped the other boys hadn’t frightened him too much. They _were_ awfully loud, and a bit rude, too.

* * *

**“Snape, Severus, come forward!”**

_A mind so slippery and full of ire, you’ll do well with all that fire, yet there’s hope for you, so deep inside, as long as you bend some of that inflexible pride._

“Slytherin!” the Sorting Hat shouted. The boy’s dark hair—so silky and fine—clung to the Hat’s material as it was plucked from his head. He put up a hand to smooth it down and ignored the off-color remarks from the Gryffindor table. 

Severus smirked at the only boy he had met on the train, even if Lupin had atrocious taste in champions.

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**Under Observation**

“You shouldn’t have stayed back!” Something wet ran down the face of the one with dark fur’s face. “I thought…You said you were my friend!” His paws were curled in, the claws turned on himself. _Silly kit!_

The one that smelled of the wild open spaces moved closer, stalking the prey. When he was close enough, he pounced and they hit the wall, sliding down to bounce near my hiding place. They rolled, the wet getting them both, until the wild one purred at the other, over and over.

“Hush, Severus, hush! I was a damned fool to trust Sirius.”

The hackles on the dark one were still up, but he stopped wetting his face at the wild one’s purrs and pets. When the wild one slipped a paw between the coverings, he even stopped breathing.

“Remus, what are you doing? We’re in the middle of a hall.” His lips twisted and strange noises came out. “Ooh…aah…that’s my nipple you…ooh!”

The wild one petted under the coverings until the dark one quieted down. They scooted to the side of the hall, away from my hiding place, but still close enough to hear.

“Severus, there’s a secret you need to hear.”

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**Shadows at the Willow**

Under my roots, there’s a disturbance in the earth. Screams that make my roots curl up and die, that burn the water out from under me. I sway and the disturbance boils up and out of the earth, between my roots as if weeded.

“Snape, you ignorant fool!” Some dark thing, with glinting eyes, waved a shining stick in the air at another, darker and grittier. “You could have been…he might have…”

“Potter, you are the fool! I know that’s Lupin!” The gritty one crossed its branches and the air sizzled. “I’ve known for years.”

“Oooo…”

“Lupin’s mine! Don’t forget!”

* * *

The dark one backed away and ran under my branches—got him once or twice. Another thing crawled from between my roots to lie at the roots of the gritty one.

“It’s all right, Lupin…” Darker thing huffed and the gritty one chuckled. “Very well, Moony. Potter’s run off to the Tower, likely. What say you and I introduce our collaboration to Sirius Black?” Thin twigs at the ends of the gritty one’s branches tangled in the leaves of the darker thing.

Dark thing pointed at the full moon. “Ooo…ooo…” My branches shook harder and some leaves shriveled and fell.

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**What Rita Missed**

The voices were low, but a cockroach can go places most witches and wizards couldn’t. I scuttled through the mouse-chewed walls of The Leaky and down a scarf-laden wall to listen in.

“Did it…did it burn much?” A man, young and untidy, brushed his fingers over something on another man’s arm. I couldn’t see…damn these cockroach eyes! The other man flinched and then slid closer.

“It filled me up with power and pride.” His voice was raw…from screaming? “Then I had to kill a Muggle-loving witch. She stood tall and proud and…forgave me.” His words slithered to a sad end.

* * *

The untidy one leaned forward, covering the mark on the arm with his scarred hand. “I don’t know what to say. You planned this all out during school, didn’t you?”

“I’m a half-blood, you’re one, too. I can’t just let them take you, make you something loathsome. We both know I’m powerful enough, angry enough, to fool them.” The hoarse voice held something…soft…in it. My antennae quivered.

“Wait… _Muffliato!_ " A spell? I couldn’t understand their words but they leaned over the table, a pair if there ever was one. A scuffle in the other dark corner and I saw another story.

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**The Auror’s Call**

When I arrived, the house was…gone! There were other Aurors milling around. 

“Ah, Shacklebolt! What’s the news?” Dumbledore turned, cocking his shoulder toward the devastation. I looked over it and saw a cloaked figure and what looked like a wolf on two legs sliding into the gloom.

“We’re waiting for the magical fall-out to lessen.” I turned and saw the same two figures now huddled, creeping away and then fading from view. I recognized Snape and saw the white blanket clutched to his chest.

I tested the magic; it was clear enough. I knew Snape’s magic as well as Dumbledore.

* * *

“I have to help!”

“No, Sirius. We know where Harry is. He’s safe.” Kingsley thought back to when Snape and Lupin appeared at his door, Harry swaddled, clean and asleep. While Lupin sat, numb but protective, Snape was on guard, wand at the ready and vitriol dripping from every word as he berated the Ministry and the Aurors.

Kingsley saw Snape’s free hand clutch Lupin’s shoulder, in comfort or for support, it was too hard to tell. Lupin’s press of cheek to hand… He felt no remorse at sending Harry with them; let Dumbledore try to pry the lad away.

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**Angel’s Eyes**

The rain fell, obscuring the men beside the graves. In all my years, I never saw such sadness. I saw a little dark head appear over one’s shoulder and I knew why then.

“You’d think the statues here would mind their own business when one is paying their respects.” The voice was snotty and dark. I heard it once, twice before the house blew up.

“I may love you but there are times being a snide bastard is unwarranted. There, there, Harry. They won’t hurt you.” A soft voice to match soft gestures, the man with scars comforted the babe.

* * *

Twice more they came, the couple and the babe. I flapped my wings and they smiled.

“Severus, you think that angel there is flapping because you look like it or is it because your scowls might just call down lightning and thunder?” This time, the voice was lighter, the laughter closer.

“Lupin, young Harry is getting sick. Please refrain from jarring him for the amusement of statuary.” The one that did look like me nodded and took the babe into his arms. His face fell into lines of care and love, but deep inside. The other man embraced them both.

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**Reflections**

What I reflect may not be what one wishes to see. 

When the dark-haired man stared into me, I show the lines of care on a young face, worn deep before their time. When the greying one is in my frame, I show scars and sadness, as deep as that of the dark-haired one. 

I reflect their smiles and their joy…even those times when the dark-haired one lays his head on the greying one’s stomach, face flushed, the lines smoothed out. There are scratches on the greying one’s shoulders and love-bites on his chest. They kiss and fall asleep.

* * *

Being buffed is such a treat! The dark-haired man uses the best glass polish ever! His hands are very gentle with fragile things.

With my glass clean and shined, I reflect something new today. I show the little boy toddling from man to man, his tiny hands grasping long thin ones and scarred blunt ones. There are grins and large, expansive gestures, hugs and squeals. The two men whirl the boy together and then, when they collapse in a heap on the edge of the couch I reflect, there are long legs tangled together and little feet slowing to rest.

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**Phoenix Memories**

The little one’s giggles as I flutter my wings are light as air. I sing my song and the two men smile. I watch them act the family as my familiar never wanted.

Soon Harry-boy falls asleep under my wings.

Severus—he never cringes when I land on his shoulder—grabs Remus—he doesn’t know I shed tears over him every moonset—and nods. I know they are going to mate, secure in the knowledge I will not let harm come to Harry-boy.

They giggle like the young boys I saw years ago, sharing a secret. A secret I share.

* * *

I hear them, rustling clothes, dropping boots as they hit the door in the next room. There are no spells, just words heavy with love—something I know about—tender and rough, moaned and bitten. A wave of magic seeps through the walls—their mating always comes with an effusion of power, reds and blues, black and gold.

Harry burbles in his sleep, the magic curling around him in muted colors.

Replete, the magic ebbs and then flows back, stronger, richer. I shift as they come to look, skin as red as my plumage. “See, Fawkes is the perfect babysitter.”

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**In the Headmaster’s Office**

I watched them grow into men, not knowing they would become great men.

They stand united before the Headmaster’s malignant glare. There is a faint nimbus of magic surrounding them. Their shoulders are back, their chests are out; Severus and Remus are a bonded pair, rare in our world, but easy to see if one is an Animagus of my caliber.

They give no ground as Dumbledore batters at them with word and magic. Severus’ wand lazily waves, partially hidden inside his sleeve. I hear the words as Albus stumbles back, surprise on his face.

Severus smirks, his eyes cold.

* * *

The smell of enchantment—something I don’t experience in my natural form—grows in the room. Remus’ body quivers with leashed power and I see it, the beast that sleeps in his soul, stretching out to fill his skin, sinews limned in ghostly magic.

Albus ignores it. It may be to his peril.

They are a well-oiled machine, their magic blended into something more, something greater. Bonded pairs share their strengths, build upon each other. Remus has learned to leash his beast; Severus has grown wilder, his magic more primal.

I think that Albus Dumbledore may have met his match!

* * *

I had to creep back as Severus and Remus faced off with the Headmaster. My fur was bristling as the very air became spell-drenched.

Severus’ sneer could have toppled the curtain walls of Hogwarts. It was cutting and cruel, a tribute to Salazar Slytherin.

Remus’ growling rumble as he demanded Dumbledore leave them be set my hackles to rising. I’d never felt such vehemence from the young man. Even Albus seems to be aware something is different.

United, the two young wizards leave, blowing the heavy door of the office open.

Severus turns. “Leave Harry be, or face the consequences!”

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**Bedstead**

They roll across me, biting and moaning, sweating into my sheets. They toss my pillows to the floor as they press and push and hump from one side to the other, from head to foot and back again.

I rip when the shorter one claws me, his blunt fingers pushing deep into me just like the taller one pushes into him. I feel teeth, sharp and pointy, in one of my pillows—they got it from the floor. Another rip, and something damp and sticky spreads across my padded top, oozing into my seams.

I creak and groan in rhythm.

* * *

The rips are gone now—they added more stuffing to my insides. In the morning, even the dampness has been removed.

When the little body crawls up my sides, tiny hands tickle me. The other two roll and suddenly there’s magic coating my threads and making me stronger, softer, deeper, wider for the three of them to play upon.

I feel my covers plucked up once more and there are three under them now, nestled into the cradle of my cushions. 

Feet beat on me, big and small, narrow and heavy and light. They burrow in for an afternoon’s nap.

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**Robe**

Once I was a cloak.

My wearer—though not for many years—cast a spell upon me and my hem is also aflame! I feel the magic of my making unraveling as I am consumed in heat. The fire in my threads is not that of magic! I curl and writhe, but to no avail.

So many times he wore me, grim and forbidding upon his person, a blackness that swirled and concealed, shielded and protected, as he went about his work cleansing the world. I hold the blood of many, dark incantations subsumed into my very warp and weft.

* * *

A flash, and my hood is asunder. There is hate—not for what I am but for what I covered while he wore me—I feel it in every fiber I still retain. As my ashes grow and I smolder, he stirs me apart, still grim.

In the flames, another feeling, of forgiveness, is woven, a thin thread of blond hairs and dusty fur. These puff away, but not into nothingness. 

As the fire consumes me I linger as a framework of ash and fire, cleansed. 

He wears a new cloak now, littered with dark and light hairs, stronger, lighter.

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**Whither Goes the Wand**

Polished with care, he sets me aside and grasps another wand, this one of flesh but just as magical. I feel the buzz of it as it thrums across me.

Vibrations of sound—moans and gasps, pleas and orders—roll over me and then his hand was upon me again, waving me through the air to remove the evidence.

I have been with him through thick and thin. He’s even used me in his passions, both dark and fiery.

I am particularly fond of fiery…especially when another wand rests next to me on the nightstand, rolling to and fro.

* * *

When he touches my tip to quivering skin, tracing runes and esoteric signs, I shiver in my core as well. The body beneath us ripples and twists as its magic reaches out to pluck at me and my master.

I dip into something warm for just a moment, the slick-wet feeling of channeling a spell inside lost in the sensation of grasping flesh. He shakes as his wand joins me, slipping in on a grunt.

Hot tightness surrounds us and then we push and pull together. Sparks flicker along my shaft and jump to his, startling whimpers around and without.

* * *

I am pulled out, catching on two kinds of skin, my core filled with something beyond magic, my wood slippery and warm. I’m set aside with a toss, lying across the other wand. I’m sticky but ready to share the resonance of their coupled enchantments.

Fingers scrabble across the nightstand, fluttering over my length, much like other fingers dance across reddened skin. The heat of being clutched, almost to the point of bending, travels inside to my core and the other core; we vibrate with our wizards. 

We spark and expel unconscious spells. Our fibers sing with completion and satiation.

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**Flying Time**

Da is so tall, my neck aches looking up at him. But he has the longest fingers. He likes to put them in my hair and comb it with them; I like it too, makes me feel like Moony when he gets his pets.

Papa isn’t as dark or tall, but he’s strong and funny and he tosses me up in the air and always catches me. He’s got another side called Moony who licks my face and likes to take midnight naps in my room.

There’s a village we walk to and today, we’re going for my first broom.

* * *

I watch Da on his broom, Papa’s arms around me as I hover in the air. There are rosebushes and they don’t want me to fall into them.

Da is a wonderful flyer, like my Daddy Potter, I think. Or maybe better. All I know is he can loop and swoop and hover even higher than I am right now.

“Severus, Harry’s not playing Quidditch yet. Come and get this wriggling boy or the broom will fly off without him.”

We laugh, and Da’s hand is on the handle, tugging me along, higher and higher, until we’re over Papa together.

* * *

“Come along, Harry.” Papa’s voice is stronger, stronger than the wind up here. He never leaves my side, even when I lean forward and the starter broom pushes forward.

Papa watches us with a grin, bigger than any he has when we give him a Honeyduke’s box.

“Go on, Harry. Show us how you can make a circle!” I look at Da and he nods. 

For an hour, we fly over our garden. I land and watch Da, showing off for us before dinner.

One day, I’ll fly like him, _zoom, zoom_ , and win the Quidditch World Cup for them.

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**Traitorous Musings**

The traitor walks the streets of Hogsmeade with his head held high, a known dark creature at his side. His wand tip flashes as he walks; his shoulders are relaxed but only another Death Eater would recognize the set of that spy’s shoulders as anything but aware.

Witches and wizards smile and nod, but there are others, like me, who squint their eyes and grimace in a parody of greeting as those dark eyes flicker over us. Blue-green eyes snap up and I halt in my steps. 

There is hate in those eyes, and hints of beastly power. I yield.

* * *

Watching Severus’ back, the beast’s fingers at his waist, I almost choke on my ire, my bile. That could have been mine: the power, the passion, the intoxicating darkness.

Yet, I know in my heart, I could not hold his attention for long. The beast—Lupin in this incarnation—has more to attract Severus’ attention and heart than I.

There is some indefinable something about the pair as they weave through the crowd, something that marks them as apart from us, yet indivisible.

While I might lust for Severus’ magic and body, Lupin loves him wholly. That much is plain.

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**Release and Recognition**

Years ago, I wished them to perdition. Moony had betrayed me.

They came together today. Remus brought me clothes, like I used to wear. Hell, they could have been Regulus’ for all I know. They didn’t fit and Snape didn’t laugh or jeer at how much of a scarecrow I was. Even though I bared my teeth at him, snapping when I couldn’t remember the words to tell him to go to hell.

Remus wrapped a blanket—soft and warm and clean—around my shoulders and walked me out of Azkaban, Snape a silent pillar of strength at his side.

* * *

Harry’s eyes were wide, the green so overpowering, I wept. It was Snape, silent still, who gave me a handkerchief and led me to the table. He pushed a cup of tea—loaded with Calming Potion, probably—into one hand and sat next to me as I sipped.

Remus’ soft voice—oh, I missed that tone so much—mixed with his as they sent Harry outside to play.

“You’ll stay here, Black. We insist.”

Snape’s eyes were sincere, as was his voice. The cup cracked slightly.

Remus grasped my shoulder and I felt the touch skitter over my frayed nerves.

* * *

Watching them as they settled Harry for bed, I felt the old hate rise up, the old fear of being alone and wanting to keep what friends I had as mine and mine alone. But their magic—primal and strong—crept up my paws, soothing.

They didn’t bother me on the rug, just set down a bowl of water and new pile of clothes on a bench. There were no wardings nor admonitions, they acted as if they trust me…

Later, I lay at the foot of their bed. One of them made it big enough for me to share.

* * *

“You’ll be a man today, Black. Harry needs to meet his godfather properly.”

Snape’s voice grated across my ears and I growled. Moony seconded the exhortation and I gave a doggy sigh and transformed.

For days they were gentle and kind, dropping soft pleas and stern warnings. Finally, Snape had to order me to live properly. Damn the man for having such command over the beast in me. Damn Moony for making me see he’s a wizard worth knowing.

Snape’s smile and Remus’ grin when I nod and sit at the table are worth it. Harry’s hug is even better.

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**Set Free**

When Severus Snape smiles at one, it’s best to be prepared. I knew that well and still I fell for his pranks and Moony’s too.

It had been a good, healing four years with them and Harry. They always made a place for me, as Padfoot, at the foot of their bed, but those times were now few and far between. 

I’d only caught them once _in flagrante delicto_ and it had been the spur I needed to go out and start living my life.

Severus helped me pack. I knew I’d find something to yelp about, all in fun.

* * *

Snape was a good teacher when one wasn’t ignoring him; I found myself ready to face the world with more spells than I had known existed.

Turning at the door, I knew I wouldn’t forget how they had moved together, in sync even when they pulled apart. And I never want to forget how they seemed to shine in the faint moonlight after one of Moony’s transformations.

I once knew Remus’ face in release. To see Severus look at him, to reflect that intensity and passion between them, was a gift I hid in my heart.

We hugged, friends now.

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**Written Suspicion**

Waves of magic washed over my parchment body, seeking something that—luckily—wasn’t written upon me. I felt two wands poke and prod at me.

The wizard with the stained fingers unrolled me with a snarl and a glare—I would have rolled back up and tried to tie myself to the owl that brought me if I could have. His fingers pressed together so hard, I soaked up the sweat and knew the anger.

He almost ripped me as he tossed me across a table.

“It’s Harry’s Hogwarts letter.”

Claws leave large holes in me. Sharp teeth do too.

* * *

I lay on the table for hours, at their mercy. They slid me back and forth, abrading my fibers and making me leave bits behind.

“It’s legitimate.” I could have told Blondie that!

“I don’t trust it, or him.” _Ouch!_ Someone’s wand skidded across me and shredded my corner!

I was rolled up and then folded, the edges so sharp I was as cutting at the voices around me.

I was slid into an inner pocket, someplace dark, hot. The heart under me was beating hard and there was a dew of sweat seeping through the shirt and into me.

* * *

Days I was traded back and forth, my edges fuzzed with over-handling and rough abuse. My ink flaked onto blunt fingers and thin ones, too. Even young ones traced the crest on me, but they were snatched away with exhortations to beware.

One week to the day of my delivery, after dousing with potions and several crumplings, I was smoothed out on the table. Two different hands held me down.

* * *

They singed my edges! The heathens even burned a hole through me!

After all their tests, the two wizards held me to a fire and then waved a candle flame under me. Never in all my epistolary incarnations have I been so misused!

“Nothing. It’s not a port-key. It’s just a Hogwarts letter.” The voice—husky, rough, it was the blond wizard—stopped the burning.

“I still don’t trust the old man. This…” He tapped me, hard, with chipped nails. “If Harry goes, he’ll be alone and all our magic might not be enough to protect him.”

“We’ll all go.”

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**Hallowed Hogwarts**

 

Their magic preceded them. My gates swung wide open to greet them and the new power coming within my walls.

I savored the flavor of wildness and the depth of darkness the older wizards held and shared. The young one was a bright flame with flickers of the same.

I welcomed them home with a creaking sigh.

Two hands pulled the rings on my doors and I opened to reveal my Headmaster. A spark of protective magic wove around the three and I saw one heart shared amongst three.

“Albus.”

“Severus, Remus. This must be Harry.”

Magic warmed my stones.

* * *

Standing inside my halls once more, I knew them again. Snape—dark, sad, alone once—and Lupin—dark as well, torn, lonely before; now they were blended, a bonded pair of wizards the like I had not held for ages. They loved their charge; that love was a bright light they shared between the three of them.

I grew a tile path and they turned down to my dungeons. Snape’s magic was fond and Lupin’s bemused. All three gave me a soft touch as they descended the stairs.

A green door opened in welcome and they laughed.

“Thank you, Hogwarts.”

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**Charmed, I’m Sure**

They aren’t the first bonded wizards I’ve met, but they are by far the most interesting. If one looks cross-eyed, you can even see the tendrils of connected magic between the two of them.

Severus Snape is thin and sharp, both in mind and tongue. We come to a swift understanding when I Charm his robes to sweep dramatically behind as he exists a room.

Remus Lupin is a quiet one of dark, dark depths. He’s intelligent, with deprecating humor and a heart bigger than the British Isles. He’s also the first lycanthrope I’ve ever met. Glad he likes me.

* * *

“Professor Flitwick, when swishing and flicking, you might not want to point at Severus.”

I taught Severus the charm to change a ceiling from plain to spectacular, for Harry’s room. I think they protect the lad too much, but so would I if I saw how the Headmaster’s eyes gleam when they rest on the boy.

They taught me several new charms for cartography and ink-making, flourishing their wands in tandem, much to Harry’s delight.

During dinner, they spoke to me and Minerva, polite and guarded under Albus’ eye. Night and day, it was, the difference the old man makes.

* * *

I saw them by the lake without Harry one evening. They held themselves apart but it was obvious they were a couple. Their bodies swayed toward each other like filings to a magnet.

The squid waved an arm or three at them and Remus conjured a school of flying fish to entertain it. Severus chuckled. When the last one disappeared, they walked into the Forbidden Forest.

As the full moon rose over the trees, I heard the howl of a wolf. Soon, there was another cry ululating through the night air. The howls and the cry wove together, fading softly.

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**Reflection Upon Reflection**

I reflect that which one wishes but I’ve never before met three wizards whose wishes were so simple and thus, not mine to reflect.

The young one found me and brought the other two to me. I vaguely remember the dark lad, still thin, still strong, but tempered now. He peeked at me once, in his Third or Fourth Year, and ran screaming from the room Albus had hidden me within.

The Wolf and Man, him I never reflected before. He cast two reflections that wavered from one to the other, but always with the dark lad at the center.

* * *

They visited me once more and I let the young one—their son—take the Philosopher’s Stone from his reflection. The dark lad pulled out a potion bottle and dropped it inside while the Wolf and Man surrounded it with a heavy layer of spells.

Albus roared when he couldn’t find it. Inside myself I saw his dark desire: A dead or dying Wolfman and a subjugated, broken dark lad. Their son cried and moaned. Then his true face appeared.

I reflected the powerful pair at this face and, in the manner of magic, they vanquished it from my surface.

* * *

The dark lad and his Wolfman found the true Albus Dumbledore hidden away in a dank cellar, inside a crazed trunk.

They came before me once more, the real Headmaster in their company, desiring truth to be revealed. As always, I gave them their desire…

I showed them the shining, flawed heart of Dumbledore and their own strange bond of magic, man, wizard and beast. When Albus hugged them with tears in his eyes, they glowed in my glass.

I gave them another glimpse and colored it with true light. The dark lad had to turn away, his cheeks red.

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**Slytherinesque**

Father says Professor Snape is a treacherous, conniving, underhanded turncoat of a wizard. He says it with a smile. I get awfully confused sometimes.

My Head of House is scary, but then so is his boyfriend… _manfriend?_...the fellow who shares his quarters, the one that growls at me if I stand too close. His eyes twinkle, though, most of the time. And he keeps Peeves from pranking us Slytherins, even if Harry Potter isn’t one of us.

They watch us, talking to us like we’re real people. In the dark, after one of father’s letters, I wish _they_ were my parents.

* * *

When Weasley and Pansy got into a fight, Professor Snape merely watched; I could see his wand in his sleeve, pointing at the pair just in case.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Parkinson, detention! Harry, you and Mr. Malfoy will supervise.” He looked at us, almost all of us, right in the eye. “If you cannot cooperate in my classroom, how do you think you’ll do in the world after Hogwarts?”

Mr. Lupin was at the door as we left and he ruffled my hair, like Harry’s. “You’ve got potential, Mr. Malfoy. You will rise to the challenge, won’t you?”

I grinned.

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**Janus Undone**

Those bastards—the two of them half-blood bastards—should never have been able to see through my Polyjuice!

Severus was one of the best Slytherins I’d ever met, all angry lines and sparkling green magic. He was one of the most dangerous Death Eaters when I joined. I wanted to become him.

Lupin was a satellite of the dead Potter, his bitch, and Regulus’ brother. Never put himself forward unless…unless Severus was involved. It was after Sixth Year, wasn’t it, when the sickly thing grew a spine?

How did they know I’d taken Dumbledore’s place? The other Death Eaters won’t be pleased.

* * *

Lupin’s interrogation was…more thorough…than the Aurors’. Probably Snape’s Veritaserum made it so.

“I don’t…don’t look at me! Don’t! No! I don’t want to look into your eyes! Don’t…”

Severus gently sifted through my memories, riffling and tossing them aside searching for…No, don’t look at that! That’s mine!

_Severus Snape tied to my bed, at my mercy…mine to break._

“Severus, come out now. Barty’s mumbling something.” 

In the end, I couldn’t keep Severus from the other Death Eaters or our plans. I even cried and the damned Gryffindor wiped the tears away and left me the handkerchief. I hate them both!

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**Stood Up**

“When’s Harry getting back?”

“Tomorrow… _yeesss_ …”

They rammed into me, fingernails scrabbled across me seeking purchase that wasn’t there—I’m very smooth and polished. Someone’s palms stuttered across me, dulling my polish in a smear.

“Fuck me, Remus…” The words huffed against my panels, warm and wet.

Soon, there was a naked body pressed into me, almost part of the grain. Muttered words…

“Don’t fucking play with me!”

“Oh…bite me…bruise me…” 

If I could blush, I wouldn’t be half as fiery at the two pounding the boards so heartily, so rhythmically. I could feel nail heads popping as my panels shifted.

* * *

Pearly glue dripped down my panels as the pair heaved and grunted together and then slid sweatily down to rest on me and the floor. The floor just lay there.

“I t’ink I bwoke by noos on tha wall.”

“Shall I kiss it and make it better?” A head banged into me, I think it was the dark one. “ _Episkey!_ ”

Two backs became two shoulders with arms wrapped around each other, and near my baseboards, something viscous oozed between floor and wood, a sticky mess.

Once more I felt hair waving across me, stuck with static electricity to my surface.

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**A Tome Amongst Books**

For two years, decades ago, they shared me between them often, flipping my pages from front to back, pressing a wet finger to my page corners as they debated the merits of which wand flick or swish to use with what charm or hex. 

I most especially liked the blunt, calloused fingers of the fuzzy one. His nails didn’t lift the ink from my ancient pages nor did he lay me face-down, my spine crackling at the abuse. The thin one’s fingers always stroked over my pictures, tracing the wafting smoke of a peat fire or a missing friend’s name.

* * *

I’ve been used for a doorstop once or twice in their lives, often enough that there are boot heel marks on my cover. More than once, I’ve even caught the blood of a wound after skirmishes. Now, I hold the Boy That Lived, or as I write about him: Harry James Potter, ~~adopted~~ son of Remus Lupin, Lycanthrope, and Severus Snape, Hogwarts Professor. 

They’ve written their names inside my _frontis piece_ in Slytherin Green ink, something that Remus still traces it on days he misses them. I would show him how Severus does the same when he must go away.

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**The Moon’s Children**

Under my light, I have seen my child—Remus in this life—grow from boy to man, from pup to alpha. His life has been lived in two halves under my ever-changing eye. In my light, he has hunted and gamboled, rutted and slept, with Salazar’s wicked curse burning through his veins to finally find Severus and the gift of his elixir.

I am cold because I am so far away. Yet, I see the flames that both comfort and consume them, these lovers who come together under my reflected rays. They burn like Sol, so far and so attractive.

* * *

They come to worship under me—Luna, Serena, Moon—as men and as something more. Pale skin glistens in the shadows of the trees as I show my waning light upon them.

“This glen will do, Lupin.” Severus’ cloak swirls through the air to fall, making a patch of silvery grey in otherwise dark night. He wears nothing but a long braid and a smile.

Another cloak falls nearby. Remus, golden son of a cold satellite that he is, shines in the moonlight. His scars soak me in and fade to nothing. They orbit, crash, and are remade as shadows.

* * *

Werewolves and men tumble to and fro under my pull, wavering as the tides climbing a far shore only to fall back over and over again. 

Neither one is all darkness; they are _my_ reflections now. 

I paint their shadows as they writhe and moan in ecstasy, strength and weakness nothing but silver in my glow. Shadows lengthen and shorten as they love.

Once I kept their secrets, once I was the only one to see them scream and rip and hex. Now I watch over my sons as they worship me with their bodies, pearlescent visions, moonshine made flesh.

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_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_


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